


Collection of snips & drabbles of various fandoms

by Denyce



Category: Buffy the Vampire Slayer, CW Network RPF, Dark Angel, Downton Abbey, Irish Actor RPF, Leverage, Lord of the Rings RPF, Stargate Atlantis, Supernatural
Genre: Gen, Multi
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-03-28
Updated: 2016-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-20 01:41:12
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 24
Words: 7,271
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3631860
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Denyce/pseuds/Denyce
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>So I've seen others do this put their drabbles/snips in one place and thought it was a great idea. So here's my rule of thumb, if its under 700 I'll post it here, 700 & up will get its own post. Note the exception, 2 snips I had previously posted and will leave as is. Both are in SGA: Games People Play & Don't Leave Me. </p><p>Otherwise each chapter will be its own snip/drabble - I'll use the chapter title to give fandom, pairing, rating to make it easier. I don't have a ton, but a few and since I've started playing with comment memes again - who knows ;) </p><p>Please also note they are un'beta'd.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Regrets, BtVS (Anya/Giles, PG)

Prompt: Anya/Giles, I might try to make you stay (WC: 364)

 

“I might try to make you stay.” 

There was no subtly in her words not that Anya actually did subtlety. Instead it was almost a promise, maybe a plea? Giles wasn’t sure until he saw the twinkle that danced within her seductive gaze. He wanted to deny it, but he remembered. Could clearly recall the taste of her sweet lips, the eagerness, and her comforting warmth when she had pressed up against his body. Warmth that she filled, one he hadn’t realized had been missing from his life. 

Looking away, Giles shook his head in denial. Dipping his head, he hid a small smile that graced his lips as he remembered. Then mentally chased the forbidden thoughts away. In habit, he took off his glasses and polished the already clear lens. His thoughts wandered from Anya to Xander to Willow and her determined resolve. Silently he gathered his own resolve. No, it wasn’t right, he couldn’t. She was too young—then ignored his subconscious laughter at the bold face lie.

Truth was she was engaged and deeply loved Xander and Xander plainly loved her. She couldn’t, didn’t know what she was suggesting, but he did. It didn’t matter that it felt right, having her in his arms. He loved, respected Xander too much to even consider such thoughts. But that was another lie because he did think of her and hadn’t been able to stop thinking about the, _what if’s_. Not since he had kissed her, held her, and that was a problem. 

No, it was good that he was leaving. That he wouldn’t have to return to work, to face her again, seeing her every day, or for that matter Xander. Though it hurt, he wasn’t about to examine or question the whys of that hurt—this, leaving now, in the long run it’d be better for him, Anya, Xander, everyone. It is the right thing to do.

Returning his glasses he looked up, and smiled sadly shaking his head, this time clearly refuting her suggestion. “You’ll do just fine Anya.” He paused a moment then awkwardly reached out and patted her shoulder as he moved pass eager to leave temptation behind him. 

FiN~


	2. Cuffs, DA (Alec/Logan, PG-13)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Alec/Logan. Alec finds some old handcuffs in Logan's drawer. (WC: 263)

“What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Alec ignored his question, instead whistled and leered as he said, “kinky bastard.” Then Logan heard a clink as Alec turned around holding up his discovery, an old pair of handcuffs.

The lithe tone of his comment wasn’t really a question, but a statement. One that if Logan had been facing a mirror he was sure he’d be flush red. Open-mouthed automatically dismissing each insane and unlikely plausible explanation that filtered through his head, Logan just stared.

Alec’s grin never wavered as he moved in closer, cuffs teasingly dangling in front of him.

Logan had every right to be pissed. Had caught Alec red-handed going through his personal things in his bedroom no less, but he couldn’t get the anger to rise above the embarrassment he felt. Truth was he shouldn’t be embarrassed, he knew that. It wasn’t like Alec didn’t have a right—after all they were lovers. Though it didn’t change the fact that this it was too soon. They were too new; he wasn’t ready or prepared to share this aspect of his life just yet. 

Alec stood, grinning madly then moved until he stood within Logan’s personal space. “So, do to you wear them, or put ‘em on?”

Initially unsure of what he just heard, Logan blinked. Stunned staring into Alec’s eyes waiting for the punch line, but Alec held his gaze and never wavered. 

Admittedly they glittered with mischief, but even clearer was Alec’s acceptance. Slowly Logan nodded, his smile spreading—maybe, maybe he had miscalculated and it was time.

FiN~


	3. With Creamy Filling, DA (Alec/Joshua, PG-13)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Joshua/Alec, twinkies (WC: 160)

“GRrrr..” Joshua stepped up and leaned down into Alec’s face. “Alec not telling the truth?”

“Whoa, down boy. How do you figure that, big fella?”

Joshua sniffed then tapped against his nose, “Nose, knows.” 

“Nose, huh?”

Joshua’s nail gently tapped Alec’s nose, his heated breath ghosted over Alec’s face. “Nose.”

“Huh?” Alec swallowed and grinned, “Even when it’s in the wrapper?” 

“Nose.” Joshua’s finger trailed over Alec’s nose down to his lips. “Where?”

“You told Max you’d cut back on sugar.”

“Max not here.” Joshua grinned, “You have them.” It was more a statement then a question. Shifting Joshua started to nuzzle against Alec’s ear to his neck; his voice lowered. “Alec not share?” Then Joshua maneuvered Alec back until he was pressed up against the wall. 

“Sugar’s gonna wind you up all night.” 

“Alec stay, we wind up together?”

“No telling Max?”

“Little fella can get her own Twinkies.” Alec bit back his laughter, grinning he couldn’t agree more.

FiN~


	4. Weeee Irish, (Lotrips, Orli/Colin Farrell, R)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Lucky Charms (wc: 186)

“Me Irish Lucky Charm” Orli couldn’t maintain the accent without starting to laugh---especially when he envisioned Colin dressed as his own personal leprechaun. All in green with pointy elf ears, and little wee knickers. Orlando rolled over laughing hysterically, slapping the bed choking as he stampeded out “with weeeeeeeeee litttt le kn—ic—kerrrrrrrrrrrrrrs…” 

Colin smirked, holding Orli’s wiggling ass in place as his lover hiccuped in-between his laughing jag, and a few gurgled words that sounded something like puddle, gold, and buckled shoes.

At the buckled shoes, Colin knew exactly what Orli was thinking and eyed the lovely target of his lover’s naked backside. “Not...” *Smack* “before…” *Smack* “you ELF BOY!!” *Smack* “That includes ears, wig, and tights!!” *Smack, Smack* “And as long you remember I’m your one and only fucking Irish charm!” *Smack, Smack*

Colin eyed the rosy cheeks enjoying the radiating heat he created, “Now hold still so I can kiss it better”

Orli’s laughter slowly died giving away to moans as Colin proceeded to show him exactly why he loved the Irish—or rather was in love with one particular Irishman.

FiN~


	5. Ordinary, Lotrips (hobbits you choose who, pg)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: ordinary (wc: 358)

Squatting on the floor I silently watch, and listen to your steady even breaths. Your mouth hangs open at an awkward angle, and does little to stop the slow momentum of drool sliding out and over of the corner of your lips. The firm line of drool almost suspended before dropping forming into a puddle that slowly soaks into the fabric of the settee. It should be funny—down right hilarious, but all I can do is stare mesmerized by your odd beauty. Your hair sticking up in various angles, of the peculiar sounds that escape your throat. You’re oblivious and snuggle deeper into the cushions.

I should be planning, plotting getting the nail polish, taking pictures, recording your sweet drooling hobbit form, yet all I can do is lean closer.

You gurgle and moan, clutching tighter to the pillow in peaceful drunken bliss. My breath catches—I ache. It’s a moment my want and needs build, but it’s only a moment. It’s in these secret moments I relax. When I’m free to want, to watch, to feel. 

Dawn will come. Make-up, and feet will commence; we’ll joke and tease about who has the biggest hangover. I’ll tease you about your alcoholic river of drool, and that you’d have to pay for the cleaning. You’ll complain. Then throw in stuff about my lacking bartending skills, and trying to poison you with bad taste. I’ll call you ‘daft’ you’ll back off from lack of evidence. Evidence you drank. Then swear off any drinks I’d make in the future—hanging your head in shame you’ll drink my awful coffee. I’ll laugh, swear a little too loudly, complain, and aggravate your headache more. You’ll mutter something like, ‘devious bastard’. I’ll laugh, again act offended, stating that as your host you should be grateful I didn’t leave you on the floor. I’ll continue to tease you mercilessly, and **_promise_** that the next time you need to sleep it off, I’ll just dump you on an Orc, and you’ll never notice how I hide my crossed fingers, my devious thoughts already planning for more secret moments—because that’s a promise I’ll never keep.

FiN~


	6. Wink, Lotrips (Viggo/Orli, R)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Inspection (wc: 130) Warning for kink

“No, yeah, hold it right there.” **_Click_**

“Just.. . ah that’s good, just stretch into it…Beautiful!” **_Click_**

“Viggo, please….”

**_Click_** “don’t think I’ll ever tire watching you like this, having you wink at me…” **_click, click, click_.**

“If you don’t put the damn camera down, and do something….

“Shhh…” Viggo paused and moved closer, his finger tracing around Orli’s gapping hole, ready waiting to be filled again. No this was a sight he had to preserve. **_Click, click_.** “Patience. Now hold your position.”

Frustrated Orli moaned, but eased back into his stretch. Kneeling, legs spread wide, his torso flat and head supported by pillows. Arms stretched back, his fingers adjusted his hold as he kept his ass cheeks spread wide for Viggo’s inspection. 

**_Click_**. “That’s a good boy.” **_Click, click…_**

FiN~


	7. Walking the plank, SGA (McShep, pg)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Walking the plank (wc: 204)

“Long walk on a short pier?” 

“Really?” Rodney asked, his tone skeptical. “Isn’t that a bit too piratish? Seems more like something Jack Sparrow would say, not Kirk.”

Head tilted, John just stood there glaring.

“Fine, fine you’re not Kirk! I’ll just ignore it when naked, alien women throw themselves at you for ascension sex… well maybe not the naked women. Even I couldn’t ignore a naked woman? Though I’d be happier if she was a blond.” 

John’s glare only looked more threatening as his lips thinned.

“What, I didn’t say her name. Would you rather hear me say I want to stare at Lorne or Ronon naked…though come to think of it…”

“Don’t!”

“Really not even a little?” Rodney held his thumb and forefinger together. Oblivious to John’s feelings, Rodney allowed his imagination to take hold, as his eyes glazed over when he envisioned Lorne and Ronon naked; wrestling over whom would top whom. The next moment Rodney found himself flat on his back. Pinned with a jealous Colonel straddling his waist.

John angrily panted out, “Not even a little.” before he planted a serious lip lock trying to retrieve Rodney’s tonsils. 

Overly pleased, Rodney moaned in acceptance and returned the searing kiss. 

FiN~


	8. Loss, SGA (Lorne/Sheppard, PG)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompted: Rejected, drabble

Rejected, Evan sat staring out into the horizon dumbfounded. Earlier his day started out with the ‘It’s not you it’s me’ speech. Like that’s suppose to justify being dumped. Because that’s what it was. It didn’t matter that he knew the truth had seen it—felt it, but at the time he had refused to acknowledge it. Had believed he could change things change John—not be his substitute. Mistakenly overlooked the signs, the increased tension and smoldering looks between them. 

It didn’t matter how he would replayed everything, in the end he was here—alone mending a broken heart.


	9. Ronon Style, SGA (Lorne/Ronon, pg)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt challenge: 50 words

Perspiration stagnated the air; his shirt plastered to his body. Moving to stand every muscle protested. Evan tried to shrug it off, turning to reface Ronon—bracing himself. It didn’t matter if it was one throw to the mat, or a thousand… he knew this was real love, Ronon style.


	10. Cool, SGA (Lorne/McKay, PG-13)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Very cool (wc: drabble)

“Very Cool?” 

Rodney eyed the man before him wondering if he was purposely channeling Sheppard just to annoy him then dismissed it. “Yes, yes, it is very cool. Now lift your legs a little higher. OK hold it right there.”

Rodney surveyed his handy work. Hands lightly caressed the leather that helped Lorne to remain in position. Muscles taut held in place as he struggled to move.

A whimpered, “Rodney.”

“Shh, you doing fine… lets see?” Rodney quickly moved to turn the vibrator on. The hum of the smuggled toy filled the air—instantly drowned out by Lorne’s desperate moan. 

FiN~


	11. McKay's Dare, SGA (Lorne/Sheppard, pg)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: A dare (wc: 477)

John's finger hooked and wedged itself behind the collar pulling against the snug tightness across his jugular. He was gonna kill McKay, or perhaps just get more creative with his own dares. His mind started to spin; images of McKay in chaps attempting to ride horseback, freefalling before opening his parachute or, better yet an exposed white belly, arms flapping as Rodney tried to balance on a surfboard--if he ever got up. Nah, no doubt Ronon would be there.

“Ahmm…”

At the sound, John turned to see Evan, head bowed and fidgeting, dressed similarity in a tux. Mesmerized, John’s gaze wandered up Evan’s body, and then back down. Licking his lips, nodding. “Okay, maybe this wasn’t such a bad idea.”

“What?” Evan gaped at John’s stare. 

He wanted to laugh as Evan’s brows danced about from started surprise to the moment he finally noticed and took in John’s appearance. It was almost comical the way Evan’s eyes widened, then narrowed mischievously before he tipped his head up, and blatantly returned John’s lustful stare. 

The room was suddenly hot, the mood shifting as John recognized the timber of desire in Evan’s voice. “Maybe…” John felt the heat of Evan’s eyes traveled his body. “Very James Bond.”

“Yeah? Cool.” Suddenly pleased, John grinned. “So we ready to do this? See where we’re off to?” He waved the offending envelope. 

Slowly Evan nodded, following John’s earlier actions, as his hand nervously massaged the back of his neck, then fingers dove under the collar to pull tentatively against restrictive bow-tie. “Please.”

John ripped the envelope opened, and stared at McKay’s letter encased with two tickets. At the top, the letter only said **_'Enjoy!'_** the bottom listed the directions to the event. The tickets held the event in question, the Ballet.

John swore, “Shit!”

“What?”

Sheepishly, he said. “The Ballet, _Swan Lake_.”

In disbelief, Evan asked, “The Ballet?” 

John nodded, _“Swan Lake”_ and waved the tickets.

Evan slowly inhaled and exhaled, and then exclaimed, emphasizing his point. “You are _never_ , I mean _never_ playing, or taking one of McKay’s dares _**again!**_ ” 

Silently John nodded, and guided Evan out the door, and out toward the car. Walking a bit stiff whether from anger, or the tux, Evan continued to fume. John knew when to keep his mouth shut being uncomfortable dressed in a tux was one thing, but being trapped in a theater for three hours for a Ballet. No McKay needed to pay for this one. A plot to retaliate started to form; one image after another didn’t stop, of Rodney surfing, of Ronon in speedo’s. He bit the inside of his cheek to keep from laughing out loud. Now all he had to do was to get Lorne in on the game, to issue a dare, his own little payback. John grinned, oh yeah things were about to get interesting.

FiN~


	12. Leprechauns, SGA, (Radek, Carson, G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Leprechauns (wc: 392)

High humidly, sweltering heat just over a hundred and seven with high winds; sweat steadily dripped down Carson’s face into his eyes until he carelessly wiped it away. It had only been a few hours, but the heat was enough to aggravate a saint, and Carson knew he was no saint. 

Shaking his head, Carson was sure he was losing his sanity. Then quickly decided it was probably the winds that he misunderstood what Radek had actually said. “Excuse me?” dumbfounded he stood there, politely waiting for Radek to repeat himself.

Radek just stared back at him like he was an idiot and repeated slowly, “A leprechaun.” Radek answered then pushed his glasses up. “According to the major, he stood right over there before he, it disappeared.” 

“What?” Confused, Carson blinked, wondering if the man was having hallucinations due to sun’s rays.

Radek must of suspected what Carson was thinking, and turned around dismissing Carson’s presence while he muttered on in Czech, his voice rising as he did.

Gritting his teeth, Carson got the gist. Whether their irritability was weather related didn’t matter. He sure as hell didn’t appreciate Radek’s tone. Even if Carson couldn’t understand exactly what Radek was saying, it was patronizing.

With as much patience as he could muster Carson asked, again. “You’re sure?”

Radek stopped and looked over his rims to glare at Carson. “Sure, that it’s what, really a Leprechaun?” Radek shrugged his shoulders and shook his head, his tone tedious. “That would be impossible. Leprechaun’s are myth, yes? Although you probably know more, are more familiar about them than I am.”

Carson shook his head. “What? About Leprechaun’s?”

Radek nodded. “Yes, your folklore.” Then he glanced down at his computer, hitting keys, reading new data. Dismissively he answered, “I already called Col. Sheppard to meet us. It was 1.2 kilometers back this way.” Radek pointed and turned, then started back up the terrain. 

Carson stood there for a moment and stared at Radek’s back. Irritated he tried unsuccessfully to shake it off and then moved to catch up. Immediately following into step with Radek, he spoke. “Irish, they belong to the bloody Irish, I’m Scottish.” His annoyance clear and getting the best of him, under his breath Carson added, “Eejit Czech,” as he briskly moved pass Radek blatantly ignoring the man’s own colorful mutterings of Czech.

Fin~


	13. Hero vs Genius, Genius wins, SGA (McKay/Sheppard, PG)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: John's a superhero, and Rodney is his sidekick (wc: 420)

Neither talked. Instead John paced. He would sometimes stop, glare at the bundle of cloth on the table, then glare back at Rodney as he worked on some thingamajig. After exploring every avenue he could think of, John sighed and stopped mid-stride. Taking a deep breath, he admitted to Rodney, “You’re right.”

On reflex, without looking up, Rodney responded, “Of course I am.” A moment later, he looked up at John. “What, really?”

“Yeah. I mean, it’s just a title, right? It’s for whoever saves everyone in the end, and that’s you—most days.”

John regretted the slip as Rodney’s eyes narrowed a fraction. John swallowed, waiting for Rodney’s denial. Instead, Rodney absently nodded as he agreed. “I do end up saving everyone. Statically speaking it’s probably is 98% of the time.” Waving his hand, as he fiddled with the thingamajig again. “With only nano seconds to spare.”

Seeing the reprieve, John jumped on it, smiling. “Yes, see? There you go. You’re actually the hero, the one…”

Rodney interrupted as he straightened and faced John, leaning toward him and boldly asked, “The smart one? Would you say genius?” 

Unable to stop himself, John rolled his eyes. “Yeah, sure, you could say that.”

“Actually, I did say that, but do you agree?”

John opened his mouth to respond, but then closed it again. He eyed the rolled-up material that sat between them and nodded in thought. Surrendering his defeat, John’s voice wavered for a moment as he started to praise Rodney’s attributes. “Okay, yeah, you’re brilliant.” His tone slowly filled with the conviction that had been lacking. “You’re a genius, a true hero, the one everyone turns to in the heat of a crisis. We need you, Atlantis needs you…” John slowly inched the material closer to Rodney.

Rodney’s lips quirked, then broke out into a wide grin as he pointedly looked at the balled-up material. “Oh no, they’re yours. I’m just the sidekick, remember? Genius-sidekick; you said it yourself.”

John panicked, “But… “ 

Rodney shook his head, picking up his thingamajig and walked toward the door. His voice high, the edge of barely-contained laughter easily carrying the distance, as he walked out. “Not on your life. Besides, I read the label not my size.”

John sneered; eyes throwing a death glare at the pair of offending tights _spandex tights_. Then he backed away, muttering and shaking his head. “No way, no… Rodney…” His steps grew faster, as he got to the door, yelling and ready to give chase. “Rodney, get back here…”

FiN~


	14. Music Makes the Man, SGA (Ronon/Sheppard, pg)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Satedan folk music (wc: 505)

Mystified John looked up, searching for wherever the music was filtering out from a hidden speaker. Frowning almost disbelieving John quietly asked, “this is Satedan folk music?”

When Ronon didn’t answer, John glanced over to see Ronon’s eyes closed, standing stock still thoroughly engrossed in the quiet melody.

After a moment under his breath, John added, “Huh…”

Whether he actually heard or not, Ronon suddenly reached out, bodily pulling John to his chest. His arms wrapped around John anchoring him in place as he started to sway.

Awkwardly John pushed back about to protest that he wasn’t a dancer, but looked up into Ronon’s face. The protest died on his lips when he saw Ronon’s expression. Eyes still closed, this time with a small smile gracing his lips. 

“Ronon?”

John heard only a soft noncommittal response of, “Hmm…” 

Stiffly and a bit awkward, John followed. He felt the heat of Ronon’s palm. Of his strong fingers spreading and spanning out across his back, pressing him in closer. 

Slowly his body started to ease and sway under Ronon’s direction. One hand slid down to firmly grip John’s hip, as Ronon guided John across the floor. In counterbalance, Ronon’s other hand started to move in a sweeping motion, up and down John’s back. The movements were slow and sensuous, rhythmic.

The melody was low; lyrical, soft, and intricate. Music John never would have thought or would have associated as Ronon’s type of music. Previously he had thought Ronon’s taste in music would have been something along the likes of Metallica, or Satedan’s version of Metallica at least something with more bass and a hard rock sound. 

John would have even made bets on it and apparently he would have lost – big time! 

It was obvious by the comforted ease of way Ronon moved to the music, it was music Ronon loved. Maybe even the way he loved Johnny Cash’s music. 

The steps were small, graceful; thankfully easy enough for John to follow Ronon’s lead. After a few dozen steps in one direction, Ronon gripped and spun him around. One hand stayed centered and anchored John, pressing whenever he switched directions. Their bodies aligned together as they continued to sway. 

As the music continued, John slowly relaxed and closed his eyes. Completely accepting Ronon’s lead, he pressed his body closer. 

In response Ronon start to hum. 

It started John, enough he had to consciously dismiss the knee jerk reaction to burst out laughing - a threat that simmered just under the surface. It wasn’t that the situation was funny even though it was; it was discovering this other side of Ronon – that this deadly formidable warrior was a pure romantic. 

Deciding he liked it, John’s arms tightened around Ronon’s frame, and rested his head on Ronon’s shoulder.

Responding Ronon squeezed, and continued to hum. Soft wisps of Ronon’s hair fell, but it was Ronon whispered voice brushing John’s ear, that he lost himself to the moment.

Together, throughout the night they danced in perfect harmony across the floor.

Fin~


	15. Sweet Crunch of Life, SGA (Ronon/Sheppard, PG)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Shopping (wc: 283)

“But, what?” John shook his head, baffled, as he took out one box after another, counting as he emptied the third then fourth grocery bag. “10 boxes of the stuff?”

Without stopping what he was doing, hunched over, head in the refrigerator Ronon continued putting away a few things, and making room on one shelf for some of the groceries that were stacked on the counter. Over his shoulder he stated, “I like it.”

John glanced at the boxes that nearly covered the entire table. “Yeah, I think I got that. Don’t get me wrong I like sugar as much as the next guy, but ten boxes, of Captain Crunch cereal? Kinda over kill, don’t you think?”

Ronon stood, turning and glared, an eyebrow rising in question, “Do you really have a problem, or is this your way of saying just don’t want me to do the grocery shopping?”

John opened then closed his mouth, remembering their conversation of splitting up a few of the household chores. As much as John loved to eat, he hated to cook and hated shopping even more. Both took time and careful planning. Frankly, he’d rather clean the bathroom, and he did. It was an in and out job. Spray, wipe, and flush; done, all in less than fifteen minutes.

With a head tilt, scrunching his mouth, as he turned to eye the boxes of cereal then the bags that still needed to be unpacked. Leaning up on his toes, John asked, “Did you get me turkey meat?”

Slowly Ronon nodded, waiting.

John returned the nod, “Nope, no problems then.” Then quickly busied himself with unpacking the rest of the bags—completely ignoring Ronon’s sarcastic, “ah huh.”

Fin~


	16. Home, Leverage (Parker/Alec/Eliot, pg)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: starting new (wc: 648)

Standing at the bottom landing of a Brownstone, almost shoulder to shoulder, they silently looked up – marveling at the sight of what was going to be their new home. 

Squinting against the sun, Eliot couldn’t deny he was pleased. It wasn’t a house with a white picket fence with a green lawn that would need to be mowed regularly located on some cula-sac somewhere in the middle of suburbia. That would have leaned too far toward a fantasy that none of them believed it anymore. Hadn’t, not since they were kids. Those were lost dreams and fantasies from their childhood that had long ago been trampled by the adults that had been around them. 

Eliot knew each of ‘em had it tough one way or another growing up; a lifetime of hurts, that in the end, they were better for it when they found each other. Those experiences forged a strength within each of them to learn, to see outside the box under any circumstances they were given. They weren’t just lucky they were quick learners; each learning to fend for themselves. And they didn’t just survive, they were self taught with an ambition to achieve more. 

Adapting to new environments until they could move on, adjusting skills, until they excelled at what they did. In time, it made them who they are - the hacker, a thief, and the retrieval expert.

Nate was the one who brought them together. Initially they all had been loners suddenly brought in to work as a team.  
From their first job together, Eliot only saw and held that first impression of: Nate the brains and master planner, Sophie the grifter con-artist, Alec the hacker an annoying geek-freak and Parker the thief who was **is** twenty pounds crazy in a five pound bag, and he’s sure they had only seen him as glorified muscle.

Although from the beginning, it was apparent Nate and Sophie had a history, were meant to be together. The three of them found it amusing to watch them dance around each other until it became frustrating.

Their antics were distracting enough that they didn’t even realize how the three of them gravitated toward each other on the side-lines watching. 

Overtime things changed. They’d bitch, moan; tease and cajole each other unmercifully as they worked together. They were always in each other’s pocket, learning each other’s body language, until gradually they somehow fit. It didn’t happen right away, but slowly they realized how they truly did fit together. Not just as a team, but the three of them fit together seamlessly like a perfect three-sided puzzle box.

Breaking the silence, Eliot questioned, “This it?”

Eliot didn’t realize how his voice came across until he saw Alec’s shoulders sag in disappointment. Then he heard Alec’s soft reply, “Yeah” then a hitch in his tone as he got defensive, “alright so it’s not exactly the Taj Mahal?”

Eliot reached behind Parker and smacked Alec’s ass. Ignoring Alec’s ow, he gruffly added, “Don’t need the Taj Mahal, we can make our own.”

Parker piped in, adding her own brand of encouragement, “Who’d want to clean anything as large as the Taj Mahal?”

Slightly mollified Alec nodded, “Point.”

With a bounce, Parker wrapped her arms over their shoulders, “Besides it doesn’t matter, together we’re a home without walls, right?”

Eliot turned and met Alec’s gaze, each grinning at the truth of Parker’s words, then in chorus, they answered in agreement, “Always!”

“Good!” Reaching down she took a hold of their hands and pulled them forward, “now let’s go see what the inside offers – like the bedroom.”

Eliot didn’t need to see Alec or Parker’s face to know they were all on the same page; with hands clasped together, in sync they ran up the steps into their new home, each eager to christen not only the bedroom, but every room in the house. 

Fin~


	17. Strawberries, fandom: CW rps (Chad/Chris, pg)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: "What a funny smell" (WC: 397)

Chris stopped and sniffed the air, “What a fancy smell.” Then gazed around the gym, before he zeroed in on the new comer, Chad. In less than thirty seconds, he was in Chad’s face sniffing. “That you Murray?”

Chad jerked back, “What the fuck?” 

Chris ignored him, his nose crinkling as he broke into a lopsided smile. “Strawberries… he leaned in and sniffed again, “and something else…” 

Chad took a step back. 

Chris followed. 

“Dude, do you mind?” 

“Actually I don’t.” then stepped in even closer, leaving Chad no escape as Chris backed him up against the wall. 

Chris grinned, then stretched his neck up, and slowly made a production of sniffing near and up toward Chad’s neck. His voice lowered to a whisper, “A bit girlie, but nice. Very nice, I approve.”

Suddenly Tommy, the manager, snapped out. “Hey, Chris you working or not?” 

Dipping his head down, Chris took a several steps back, his body shaking with laughter when he yelled out, “Yeah Boss.” 

Looking back he saw Chad fidgeting nervously from one foot to another, looking anywhere in the gym, but at Chris. “I’m glad you came back?” Chris didn’t wait for an answer, and grabbed Chad’s arm. “Come on, need to get you started on your workout. Build up some sweat…”

He stopped at the first rotation machine. Sweeping his arm out, silently directing Chad to take a seat. Patiently he waited until Chad was comfortable. 

With a sideway glance he saw Tommy over by the stationary bikes on the other side of the room. He waited until Tommy was preoccupied then impulsively leaned in and pressed closer to Chad. To anyone else it’d look like he was doing his job, offering a client proper technique. 

Chris licked his lips and huskily whispered in Chad’s ear “I love strawberries.” Before he could stop himself, Chris closed the gap, stretching his tongue out to dip inside Chad’s ear then he licked a wet trail over the shell, before quickly pulling back. 

Chris waited, his heart thundering waiting for Chad’s response – hoping he hadn’t somehow screw things up or misread Chad. 

Although Chad didn’t say a word the crimson blush creeping up his neck, and shit-eating grin he was sporting spoke volumes. 

Breathing easier and feeling ridiculous like he had just won; Chris’ lips widened to match Chad’s. Some days he really loved his job.

Fin~~


	18. A Day in the Life, fandom: SPN (John, G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: The pain lets him know he's alive (wc: 205)

The pain lets him know he's alive; it gives him a reason to stay focused - reminds John where he is, what he has to do, and, ultimately, who he has to save.

Although he's on the job, John's not here to save the little girl, Bethany Madison, who died eighty-five years ago. He can't save her, and it's not his job to punish the step-mother who pushed her down the stairs. It isn't even his job to save Agnus and Truman Silberstein who bought the house three months ago.

John Winchester was here pursuing his larger purpose. It happened that he was able to vanquish a ghost and put a soul to rest, but he wasn't here for them. He never was. John had only one focus, one thought, one goal that had never changed from the moment he'd lost Mary. He would find and kill the yellow-eyed bastard in order to save his boys. He would save his boys' lives, their souls.

It's what John hangs onto, it's the one thing that matters enough to let him ride the pain, to fight to stay alive to do his job. He hangs onto the only job that matters - saving Sam and saving Dean.


	19. Bobby, fandom: SPN (Bobby, Missouri, G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: Bobby found it hard to contain his surprise when he opened the door, drabble/snips from SPN lounge back in 2010 (wc: 192)

Bobby found it hard to contain his surprise when he opened the door as he sat in his wheelchair staring up at himself. 

Twenty or thirty seconds passed before he reacted out of the stupor, his hand wrapped around the cold handle of his gun that lay in his lap. Fingers automatically cocked and aimed ready to fire. 

A voice he recognized from over the years, boomed “Robert, don’t you dare do that!” it came from behind _the him_ standing there. He watched as she pushed _the him_ aside to make herself visible. Leaving Bobby no doubt that the voice matched the body - it was Missouri. 

“He's not a shifter."

When he didn't respond, she sighed, "Damn it! I did not drive across this great country enduring every waffle house restaurant from Lawrence Kansas to here, just to watch you shoot yourself.” 

Bobby just sat there staring, gun ready; he hesitated, but didn’t take his eyes off of the shifter. After a moment he demanded, “Who the hell are you?” 

_The him_ standing there, his doppelganger took off his hat and wiped at his brow. “I’m you, five years from now.”


	20. Stanford, fandom: SPN (Sam, G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt: For Sam the facts were simple. (WC: 117)

For Sam the facts were simple. Right was right, wrong was wrong, why did he get that and his brother and his father didn’t. Every lie they told, every scam it was wrong – even with the big picture it was something you shouldn’t do, but they did. This time however he followed their example. Over seventy-five percent of the application was correct, the grades, test scores, essays, the recommendation letters were true and factual. Though there were small gaps; he had no choice but to fill those in. It was either fund the lie to bridge those gaps to go to Stanford, or lose his chance to get out and leave the family business.

Sam chose Stanford.


	21. Missing You, SGA (Lorne/Carson, G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Warning:** character death, post S3E17 Sunday

Prompt: Lorne/Any, Its ___ birthday (WC: 388)

Quietly with purpose Lorne made his way down the long corridor. Although he had gone just a few days ago, Lorne knew he had to be there today.

With every step, his mind and heart heavy as the memories filtered in. Of the choice he made when he declined Carson’s offer. Since then he’s replayed that moment over and over – if he had only said yes, it would have been different. He and Carson would have been gone, out fishing, only to hear of the tragedy after the fact. AND more important, Carson would alive be here with him now.

Although he’s grieved Carson’s loss every day, he still finds himself back on the balcony where Carson had found him painting.

Now he just sits there staring out watching Atlantis skyline, the various hues that at one time he would have tried to capture with his paints. Something he hasn’t done since Carson died.

It’s only there, on that balcony where Lorne truly feels connected to Carson. Logically he knows it’s based on guilt – something he hasn’t let go of. Though it’s only there where the memories of Carson’s are vivid almost to the point he can reach out and touch him. The pain is sharp, his love deep that it aches – and he feels, so much.

It’s why he refuses to stop going. If he did then it’d he’d truly lose Carson and that’s something he just couldn’t bear.

Rounding the corner, Evan sees the balcony – then he sees Carson.

A small smile pulls at his lips; Carson was waiting for him.

A soft lilt of Carson’s voice fills his ears, “Didn’t think you’d remember?”

Approaching, Evan inhales, relief spreading throughout his body at seeing his love standing there. His ache lessens a fraction even as he ignores his subconscious warning him that Carson’s really not there.

Smiling he answers, “I’d never forget.” Wishing he could wrap his arms around Carson, feel his body – his heart aches anew.

Sitting down on the bench he brought here months ago, Evan looks out to the skyline then turns back to Carson who sat down beside him. The lump in his throat expanded, his eyes glisten as he whispered, “Happy Birthday, love – I miss you.”

Tears trailed down his face when he heard, Carson’s, “Aye, I know love, I know.”

Fin


	22. Childhood Wishes (Ben- X5-493, G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Drabble for comment_fic, prompt by cozy_coffee  
> Any, any, wish

A lifetime ago, Ben believed in fairytale wishes. He was young and didn’t know better. 

Since then he believes and devotes himself to the Blue Lady; follows the path she set for him. He has faith; knows she can grant him wishes. When she does it’s a precious gift that doesn’t come frivolously. He has to be disciplined, to sacrifice. Otherwise those wishes are nothing more than a child’s fantasy. He’s not a child. Manticore killed that part of him years ago. 

To save his siblings from Manticore, Ben knows his mission in life is: to sacrifice by paying tribute.


	23. Ficker of Light (Downton Abbey, Thomas - Carson, G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set in S6, after Thomas' attempted suicide, while watching this popped into my head. I still have the last episode to watch so this might not jive with the end canon. Written to fulfill a challenge for gameofcards on (LJ) on Team Clubs, challenge #34 Missing Moments (or just my wishful moment for Thomas).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Un'beta'd

“Oh hello Miss Baxter, please excuse the intrusion. Mr. Barrows if you’re feeling up to it and wouldn’t mind, a word?”

Wide-eyed Thomas just stared at the butler then glanced at Baxter who had brought up his breakfast.

When he nervously met her gaze, she only smiled encouragingly, offering a measure of reassurance.

Jerkily he nodded, swallowing pass the lump in his throat and choked out, “Of course Mr. Carson.”

“Alone?”

“Certainly, Mr. Carson.” Standing Miss Baxter turned to Thomas, “If you don’t object, I’d like to check on you later this afternoon, Mr. Barrows.”

Flustered at her generosity, Thomas replied, “I’d like that Miss Baxter. Thank you!”

“Very good then Mr. Barrows. I’ll see you later.” At the door, she addressed her goodbye with a nod, “Mr. Carson” and closed the door behind her leaving the two men alone.

Thomas waited for Mr. Carson to say something – anything. Instead he stood there silent looking around the room and most notably he avoided looking Thomas’ way. Thomas felt his stomach tighten, this was it Carson was ready to sack him, here and now…

Finally, Mr. Carson straightened. “I want to inform you…” he cleared his throat, “to inform you as you know Mr. Mosely is taking on the job as teacher. It’s not a permanent vacancy, but it leads us in need of a footman again. Understandingly you can return to duty once the doctor has cleared you – that is if you would like to stay on for a time?”

Thomas’ mouth dropped, “For a time? His Lordship would let me stay?”

“Yes, it was his suggestion to put things on hold in order to keep the house running smoothly.”

“And you Mr. Carson, do you want me to stay?”

The man looked at him appalled that he would outright question him. Suddenly Carson straightened then inhaled sharply. “It is not my place to question his Lordship.”

Discouraged Thomas looked away, “Of course not, Mr. Carson.”

“However, Mr. Barrows I will say it appears I was wrong to accuse you of any irregularities regarding Mr. Parker. He informed me how you have taken him under your wing, trying to teach him how to read. I told you once before I will not pretend to understand your – situation. Yet you have settled here, know your place without question - and like most families, even those fallen or ill-favored, they are still family. Your ….

Your incident, has reminded even someone like me who is so set in their ways, that as much as I might have suggested otherwise, you, Mr. Barrows would be missed. In other words, you Mr. Barrows, are indeed family.”

Thomas just stared-wide-eyed at the man, he had to be hearing things. First waking up then discovering he was still here at Downton Abbey, to the rotating door of visitors, most notably Lady Mary with his Lordship George. To now hear his Lordship has rescinded the demand that he find employment elsewhere - it was overwhelming. His emotions were quickly unraveling at the generosity offered that he couldn’t utter a sound. Thomas looked up at Carson with hope his answer and gratitude was easily displayed as he nodded his acceptance.

Whatever Carson saw seemed to appease the man as he smiled. “Very good then, I shall inform his Lordship. Now, I will leave you to rest Mr. Barrows. Good day.”

Through watery eyes Thomas nodded and smiled in return as the man left. Staring at the closed door, Thomas didn’t bother to hide or wipe away the tears that fell freely down his cheeks, recalling Carson’s words; the declaration that he was family. The cherished words eased a pain he had lived with his entire life. It wasn’t perfect, but it filled him with hope of what tomorrow might bring.

Fin


	24. When its Right, Supernatural (pre-series John, wee-Dean, PG)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> John takes Dean out to get a Christmas tree

John glanced back to make sure Dean was following behind him. He would have thought Dean would have been more excited to get a tree, but the way his son meandered around, he started to question Mary’s plan that they to do this without her. She had pushed him to take Dean while she went shopping without them. The plan was to meet them back at the house for a late lunch slash early dinner then set the tree up to decorate. 

“What do you think Dean? Is this the one?”

John stood back to watch his son. 

Although at only three, Dean stood rim rod straight as if he was closer to John’s height. He walked around the tree eyeing it up and down, studying every angle. Then he stopped and crossed his arms over his chest before his son cocked his head and looked back up at him. 

John bit his lip to keep from laughing out loud at the sincere seriousness on Dean’s face; yet he couldn’t stop the grin that pulled at the corners of his lips. 

Slowly Dean nodded, “I think Mommy will like it” Then he firmly declared, “So will Sammy.”

“Yeah?” His eyes glittered with happiness then John raised his brow, questioning, “Who’s Sammy?” He had already guessed the answer, but hearing his son’s answer and the thought process behind it always lifted his heart. 

Without batting an eye Dean answered, “My baby brother.”

“That so. You’re sure it’s going to be a boy – what if it’s a girl?” Dean just gave him a look like he’d gone crazy. John chuckled, “Okay, so how’d you come up with Sammy?”

Dean shrugged. “Mommy asked me if I liked the name, Samuel.” He crossed his eyes and shook his head no, in distaste. Then he paused, at the memory sharp, his lip dropping, Dean quietly said, “That made mommy sad. She said Samuel was Grandpa’s name and that I was named after Grandma Deanna. I didn’t want to make mommy sad and told her we could call him Sammy – that Sammy was better. It made Mommy happy.”

“Huh, I like that, Sammy rolls off the tongue. Still works if he turns out to be a she.”

John tried and failed make his son see reason. All he got in return was Dean’s steady glare. John sighed and tried another tactic. “Dean, even if he’s, a he when he gets older he’ll probably want to shorten the name to Sam.”

Dean shook his head defiantly then turned his back on John, to admire the tree. With a smile, Dean’s small voice rose as he stated over his shoulder. “Nope it’ll always be Sammy.”

John stood there in blatant shock at his three and half year old son’s firm resolve. 

Finally John burst out laughing, “All right then kiddo” and leaned down to pick Dean up. “Let’s go pay for this tree then tie her to the roof of the car. Then we can go home and see Mommy’s make lunch or dinner? Then if she bought any stuff so we can make some Christmas cookies?” 

Dean bounced on his shoulders then he leaned over, hair flopping as he animatedly shook his head no, and simply answered, “Pie, mommy’s gonna let me help her make pie. Christmas pie!”

John only laughed louder, his heart beaming with pride and happiness things couldn’t be more perfect.

Fin~


End file.
